


Derek's New Journey

by Chubby-derek-and-friends (da_athanasi)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chubby Jackson Whittemore, Chubby Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Fat Jackson Whitmore, Fat Scott McCall, I'll add more tags as I add chapters, M/M, Multi, chubby!kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19153762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_athanasi/pseuds/Chubby-derek-and-friends
Summary: Derek's looking for something new in his life. Stiles is about to help him make some BIG changes.





	1. The Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely sterekschub and Sterekchub for betaing!!!

Derek stared down into his coffee and sighed. Around him, the subtle sounds of the café filtered in and out of his hearing. A woman laughed at the comment her partner made. Cups clinked as patrons picked them up and put them down. The steam wand whistled as the barista cleaned it. They were all regular sounds that should have been comforting to Derek, in the way that most people found white noise soothing. But today, they were anything but. 

Today, the noises grated on Derek’s nerves, and not just because he had supernatural hearing. Being a born werewolf meant that Derek had long ago learned to control his abilities, to dampen the sounds around him to a manageable level and tune out what would have been an overwhelming cacophony. But today...today, Derek was just worn out. 

He wasn’t tired, per se. Werewolves don’t really get tired in the same way humans do, unless they do something stupid like not eat for a week, and Derek wasn’t stupid. What he was, though, was emotionally tired. Exhausted. Working every day in the Office of Supernatural Affairs might sound like a dream job to some people, but Derek had grown up surrounded by pack and supernatural politics, so dealing with the petty squabbles of tree nymphs and cave trolls was not high on Derek’s list of things that excited him. 

As a matter of fact, there was very little in Derek’s life that really excited him. Derek didn’t really have a social life. His coworkers were either too nosy or wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn’t that surprising. Werewolves had a reputation in the supernatural world for being confrontational, and even though Derek had never so much as raised his voice or flashed his teeth in the office, his generally grumpy attitude seemed to confirm for most that he wasn’t someone to hang out with. The only reason he even had a job in the Office was because of his mother. 

Talia Hale was well known throughout the US and even internationally as a powerful, smart, and strong alpha werewolf. The Hale pack was long-since established and had a proud lineage of not only protecting themselves, but other “supe’s” from threats. Being Talia’s son was what had landed him position, or rather, it was why they gave it to him. 

Derek hadn’t even really wanted the job. It was boring, and monotonous, and he didn’t even need the money that came from it. As a Hale heir, he had a trust fund that could easily allow him to float around the world on yachts for the rest of his extended life if he wanted, but Derek wasn’t really the playboy type. And when he had graduated high school with little in ambition aside from avoiding his ex-classmates, Talia had insisted, so Derek had taken the position.

But now, six years later, Derek needed a change. He wanted out of the daily bureaucratic humdrum and away from the sphere of supernatural political grandstanding. He wanted something different, something fulfilling. Derek felt listless,...empty,...hollow.

But what did it matter how he felt? He was never going to get away from that crap. Not as long as his Alpha required him to stay there. What else would he do? What else could he do?

Derek morosely pondered his lack of options while he sipped from his coffee. At least the creamy, sweet liquid was something he could savor. It filled up the void in him somewhat. Though a brownie would do even better. Derek looked up at the café bakery case to see if they had anything worth eating. Nothing caught his fancy, but his eyes caught the tall blonde barista working behind the counter. What about working in a café? That couldn’t be too hard a job.

But no, Talia would never allow one of her children to do something so menial. Plus, being a barista would mean too much dealing with people. Humans, who would pitch a fit if their coffee was too hot or not hot enough or was made with the wrong milk. And Derek wasn’t good with talking to people at the best of times, let alone when they were yelling at him. Chances were, he would end up flashing his fangs at some poor human and getting his entire pack in trouble. 

He drank the last of the coffee down and shook his head.

At least today had one bright spot: no one had tried to sit with him. For whatever reason, people always tried to sit with Derek when he was out by himself. Well, Derek knew the reason. Being a born wolf meant that Derek had a supernatural metabolism that kept his body lithe and his muscles toned, and the Hales were known for their glass-cutting jawlines and angelic cheekbones almost as well as their political prominence, so Derek was used to being hit on and treated like a piece of meat pretty much anywhere and everywhere he went. And that was despite what his sister Laura liked to call his, “angry eyebrows,” or his, “resting bitch face.” Whatever. Derek wasn’t just his body, and today he was left gloriously to his own devices. It was a blessing for which Derek thanked whatever caffeine deity watched over coffee shops. 

The soft jingle of the café door’s bell drew Derek’s attention as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, a sure sign of an approaching supernatural. Expecting to see one of the usual suspects from the area, Derek was thrown off when he looked up at the person walking into the building. Looking at the stranger caused Derek’s breath to catch, and a chill to shiver down his spine. He wasn’t sure why, but Derek found the stranger incredibly striking, even though a second glance told him there was nothing particularly different about him. 

He had brown hair, which sat on his head in a fluffy nest, his pale skin dotted with an occasional mole. He was skinny...no, not truly skinny. He had a good-sized frame, with broad shoulders, strong legs, and corded forearms, but his outfit of a soft t-shirt and an extra-large plaid overshirt swallowed him up, making him seem smaller. He strode with confidence up to the counter, smiling at the barista, and Derek was hit with a sudden but strong sense of rightness from being in his presence.

Derek took a discrete sniff to see if maybe he could place the man’s smell, to try and ferret out where these feelings where coming from, but the pungent odor of coffee and tea overrode almost everything else in the café. Frustrated, Derek tuned his ears to try to pick up on the man’s voice. 

“Hey, Isaac,” the man called to the barista, his voice deeper than Derek would have expected.

The Barista smiled at him in acknowledgement. “Hey, Stiles, just a second.” 

Derek frowned at the name. What the hell was a Stiles? Was it a last name? A nickname? It wasn’t anything Derek recognized from his work in the office, so he wasn’t definitively a supe’. 

The sound of water filling a large container muffled the next bit of conversation, but it seemed to just be general platitudes. Derek’s eyebrows went up as he watched the blonde barista put two extra large, full pitchers of water on the counter and pushed them over to the man. 

“Thanks, dude. Gotta go cool off my boys, yanno?” Stiles said. He hefted up the pitchers and turned toward the door. 

When the man’s attention turned from the barista, Derek studiously ducked his head and looked down at his empty cup on the table. He didn’t allow himself look back up until he heard the door bell jingle. 

A thousand thoughts sped through Derek’s mind. Why was seeing this man causing so many strange sensations? He wasn’t actively enchanting Derek, that much Derek knew about how magic wielders worked. And he wasn’t a succubus or anything like that. They had to touch you to affect you. 

And then Derek began reliving the rest of the interaction. What were those pitchers about? Was he a dog walker? Or maybe he coached little league? Or was he some sort of trainer? He looked fit enough if the ease with which he lifted the pitchers was anything to go by…then again, looks could be deceiving. 

Almost immediately, the man walked back in with two empty pitchers.

Derek frowned to himself. Had he just dumped the water out? Wasteful. If there was a dryad nearby they would be having a conniption. 

Stiles walked up to the counter and slid the pitchers back to Isaac. “Thanks, dude,” he said cheerfully. “I make them walk every day but it’s a scorcher out there. Plus, you know, they’re big dudes. They gotta drink a lot of water.”

Isaac nodded, and Derek noted a subtle blush creeping up the blond man’s cheeks. “How…how’s Scott doing?” the barista asked shyly.

Stiles’s grin widened, “oh, he’s doing just fine. Getting a little too big for his britches maybe, but then again, that’s what we’re both working towards, you know?”

The barista was fully blushing now, and he nodded back quickly.

“You should come outside and say hi,” Stiles encouraged. 

Isaac shrugged. “Can’t…gotta mind the store.”

Stiles leaned forward, “Okay, then. What about coming to hang out some night? I’m sure Scotty would love to see you.”

Isaac shied away from Stiles. “I…I…,” he stammered, looking more and more like a trapped animal as his shoulders hunched up to his ears and his whole face grew bright red. Even Derek was a little uncomfortable.

“It’s cool, dude,” Stiles relented. “I’m not trying to force you to do anything. I just think you two would hit it off.”

Isaac still looked uncomfortable. Thankfully, the bell tinkled again, and a voice called out from the front door, “Stiles?”

Derek looked over to the newcomer and was immediately baffled by what he saw.

Standing in front of the double door to the café, effectively blocking the sunlight, was probably one of the fattest men Derek had seen with his own eyes. He had to weigh well over four hundred pounds. He had curly black hair and puppy dog eyes, his face round and puffy. His chest was a pair of perky moobs that day on top of a huge round stomach that seemed to be suspended over nothing. The gray t-shirt the man wore looked Paper thin, and the fabric clung to every roll of the man’s upper body, including two ham-hock arms, and had a dark indent where the man’s belly button lay hidden. The hem of the shirt didn’t even come all the way down to cover the bottom of the man’s belly, leaving a couple of inches of tanned skin out in the open. He wore a pair of painted on athletic pants as well, and though his hips weren’t as wide as his belly, the fabric easily showed legs that had to be as thick as mature trees. 

Derek stared at the man. He couldn’t stop himself. He wasn’t trying to be rude, he was just surprised to see someone so large. The sight was stirring something in Derek that he didn’t even know how to describe. Admiration? Envy?

A breeze wafted in from behind the man through the open door and Derek suddenly caught the scent of another werewolf. Immediately, Derek’s interest increased triple-fold. The fat guy was a werewolf? How was that possible? Werewolves couldn’t even get chubby, let alone as massive as this guy was. Derek sniffed discretely again. He wasn’t newly bitten, that Derek could tell. His scent was that of an established were.

“Stiles, come on, we’re tired. And it’s hot,” the fat werewolf whined, before ducking back out the door.

Stiles chuckled, pulling out his wallet and removing several bills from the long pocket. “Well, I guess you’re off the hook for now, Isaac,” he teased.

The barista shook his head, but the tension had bled out of his shoulders. “God, Stiles, what do you feed him?”

Stiles shoved the money into the tip jar on the counter and started walking backwards toward the door. “Come hang out sometime and see for yourself.” He spun around, not gracefully, and moved to go out the door. At the last second, he turned and caught Derek’s eyes.

Derek froze, unsure what to do being caught staring.

Stiles winked at Derek, then called out, “see you tomorrow.”

Derek wasn’t sure if it was meant for him or for the barista. 

As the brunet left the café, Derek felt a funny tingle in his stomach. The whole scene had brought up a host of questions in Derek’s mind that he wasn’t sure what to do with. Was that werewolf gaining weight? How did he overcome the werewolf metabolism? Was it a curse? Was he trapped somehow? Was Stiles helping him? Or was Stiles the cause of it? And both Stiles and the werewolf had seemed to indicate that there was more than one person waiting outside. Was this some sort of cult? And why did Stiles seem to stir up such strange feelings in Derek?

Derek didn’t let himself think about the other sensations he had when he saw the fat werewolf. Those were things best confronted…never. But the rest? That were’s size was surely attention-grabbing. It even threatened to break the veil of supernatural secrecy that everyone lived under. Derek would definitely need to investigate this. He would have to come back the next day.

Derek didn’t acknowledge how his stomach filled with butterflies at the idea of seeing both of those men again as he walked up to the counter to purchase two ham and brie sandwiches, his stomach growling in hunger. 

***

Stiles smiled to himself as thought of the man in the café. Handsome as hell, with black hair and thick, masculine eyebrows. His shoulders were broad and his arms were buff. The dude looked like a model, but then again that wasn’t uncommon for a were. Of course, the spell that Stiles used on himself had revealed a lot more to him than just the man’s supernatural status. And the possibilities…

“Dude,” Scott chided, interrupting his thoughts, “seriously?”

Stiles blushed. He never could hide anything from Scotty, even before he’d been bitten. Now, after several years living together, they were like open books to each other. 

“What can I say, dude? I think my bait just might have caught me a big one!”

Next to him, Jackson scoffed. “What, we’re not big enough for you?” 

Despite his airy tone, Stiles could tell Jackson was fighting his insecurities as he pawed at his own hefty belly. Though smaller than the other werewolf, Jackson was still pretty fat. His weight seemed to be more evenly spread, giving him a Michelin Man-like appearance. And unlike Scott’s casual dress, Jackson wore a button-down shirt, an open sports jacket and a pair of slacks. The shirt had been loose earlier in the day but now hugged his belly fat like a second skin. The jacket, Stiles knew, would never close again, even if Jackson wouldn’t admit it just yet. 

Laying an arm around both Jackson and Scott’s shoulders, Stiles squeezed himself between their soft bodies in a three-way hug. “Awww, don’t worry! You know you boys are my favorites. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to help some other people.”

Jackson pulled away from the hug, but still blushed at the affection with a small smile on his lips. “Right, sure, Stilinski.”

Stiles smiled. On his other side, Scott huffed slightly. 

“If we’re your favorites, why do you make us walk to the buffet every day?”

Stiles poked Scott’s already jiggling belly. “Because if I didn’t, the most exercise you boys would get is walking from the couch to the pot, and if we’re gonna get you boys bigger, we need to keep up your mobility.”

Scott shrugged, “But we’re werewolves. It’s not like we’d be unhealthy if we were immobile.”

Stiles shook his head at the old argument. “Unproven. And besides, you two wouldn’t fit in the Jeep at the same time.”

Jackson growled. “That damn Jeep. I swear, Stiles. One of these days you’re gonna wake up and find it in pieces.”

Stiles swatted Jackson’s flabby ass. “Like you’d be able to get up in the morning without me feeding you breakfast.”

He spun around and jogged backwards between the two lumbering werewolves so he was out in front of them. “Now come on, first one back to the house gets an extra snack!”

The two chubs picked up the pace, jostling each other as they raced back to the house they all shared. Stiles let them pass him so he would walk behind, enjoying the view of all their fat bouncing along, and thinking again about the guy from the café, hoping he would see him again soon.


	2. ...is a very delicate time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek learns a little more...and comes up with some more questions

Derek tapped his fingers on the metal patio table anxiously. He had been sitting outside the same café from the previous day for almost an hour now, and Stiles and his fat werewolves were nowhere to be seen. Disappointment swirled in Derek’s stomach like a noxious storm. 

“Stop that,” Derek told himself, “you were here to investigate them. It’s not like this was a date.”

Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t much better at lying to himself than he was to his alpha. While it was true that he didn’t have a date to meet the mysterious Stiles, Derek’s reasons for coming back were far more than just a cursory interest fostered by his job in the OSA. 

In reality, Derek wasn’t really sure how much of his nerves were from excitement or apprehension: Excitement at the prospect of something new and different starting in his life, apprehension for the idea of trying to talk to new people and having to deal with his social anxiety. Laura never seemed to have this kind of trouble, but then again, his sister was the golden Hale.

Derek took a long hard pull from his extra-large Frappuccino as he pondered why he and the rest of his family seemed to be so different. His parents had no issue being public figureheads of not only a well-known pack, but of well-known businesses. His siblings were popular and had a million friends, whereas Derek could barely tolerate other people. The only other person he really relaxed around was Boyd, the only other werewolf in the OSA. He was stoic, staid, and reliably relaxed, which definitely helped keep Derek on an even keel. But even he wasn’t someone Derek spent a lot of time hanging around outside of work. 

Derek munched on a chocolate scone while he pondered his lackluster social life. Bits of glaze flaked onto his stubble and shirt with each bite. 

Thankfully he was saved from too much more introspection by the sound of huffing breaths coming up behind him.

Turning his head, Derek saw the fat werewolf from the day before making his way down the sidewalk. His big belly shifted back and forth with every step and, if Derek wasn’t mistaken, looked even more pronounced than the day before. Like previously, he was dressed in a tightly fitting t-shirt and athletic pants. His flabby arms flapped against his sides as he lumbered forward and his big thighs swooshed past each other with each waddling step.

Next to him walked another fat man, though he was slightly smaller and better dressed. His light brown/blond hair was styled and his rounded torso was attired in a dress shirt and sports jacket. The dress shirt, however, was missing a button which left the blond’s belly button on proud display. Unlike the first man, the blond was more big all over, a pillar of chub compared to the brunet’s apple shape. 

Both of them ignored Derek in favor of reaching a pair of benches on either side of the café door and plopping down on them. 

“So…full…” the blond gasped, his hands wrapping around his big belly tenderly.

The brunet only groaned in response, his own head thrown back while he massaged his bulging belly. His thighs were spread wide to let the thing sag between them. His t-shirt clung tightly to each roll of fat and the hem left a solid foot of flab exposed.  
Derek felt his own excitement stir watching them. They were both werewolves, that Derek could smell, but nothing about either of them could be classified as odd aside from their size. Of course, it was hard to be objective when watching them rub their stomachs was so…invigorating.

“Awww, are my poor boys tired?” Stiles’s voice called.

Derek’s head whipped around to see the thin man sauntering down the sidewalk. He met Derek’s eyes and gave him another wink, causing Derek to blush involuntarily. Quickly, Derek looked away, and back down at his food. He noticed the still present flakes of glaze and quickly began brushing them off his shirt and face. 

“Stiles…” the brunet…Scott, If Derek remembered correctly…whined.

Stiles strode up to the fat werewolf and placed his hands on his belly. “Awwww, is my big fat puppy still full?” He crooned.

Derek felt a rush of jealousy and embarrassment at the public baby talk. 

“Hey…URP…I won…” the blond werewolf called. He grimaced as his stomach made an audible gurgle. 

Stiles crossed to the other wolf and began rubbing his protruding gut, much to the wolf’s pleasure. “Yes you did, Jax. You out-ate Scotty fair and square. And you’ll get your prize when we get back to the house.” He leaned down, face inches from the fatter man’s. “I promise.”

The blond wolf’s face colored as Stiles’s smile grew. 

Derek shivered from the intimacy of the statement. Stiles obviously had no idea that he and Scott could hear his remarks, so he couldn’t have known they were werewolves, which in turn meant he couldn’t have been the cause for their weight gain. But then, what was? And what had stirred such deep feelings in Derek. Watching him be so affectionate with the others…Derek wanted that from Stiles, and he didn’t even know the man! What was going on?

Stiles patted the blond’s proud belly and stood up straight. “Now, let me get you boys something to help settle your stomachs.”

Both wolves groaned, though in thanks or in despair, Derek couldn’t tell. He focused on looking as uninterested as he could while Stiles walked inside. Derek listened as Stiles began chatting with the barista.

“Are you two okay,” Derek asked softly, knowing both werewolves could easily hear him.

“Yeah, dude,” Scott answered, “just…stuffed.”

“Is he…or someone else…forcing you to eat?” 

Both Scott and the blond scoffed at that. “Hardly,” Jackson replied. “Just had to show…McCall here…OOF…who the big shot is!”

“Shut up, Jackson. You know I had a late breakfast today.” Scott countered.

“Sure, dude…URP!...Keep telling yourself that.” Jackson had a self-satisfied smirk that definitely seemed to indicate his actions had been totally his own. Though Derek also knew there were all kinds of ways to influence others in the supernatural world. 

Something else was niggling at Derek’s mind, but before he could chase the thought down, Stiles the-emerged from the café with the safe two pitchers as the day before. 

“Alright, boys, I got you some soda water this time.” Stiles announced. “Should help loosen up some space.” He lifted one to each of the werewolves. They took the jugs and automatically began chugging them.

Derek couldn’t help but watch. The wolves were…fastidious. They gulped down the water quickly and without spilling a drop. Derek could see the tiny bubble traveling up the clear containers as they chugged. It was clear to him that the boys had indeed drank the water yesterday as well. They drank like frat-boy champions. As one, both put down their empty pitchers and gulped at the air. As Stiles gathered the containers both wolves leaned their heads back and began to burp. Long, loud, wet sounds came out of their mouths as the bubbles inside their bellies found friendly pockets of air and dragged them out.

“Uuuuuuuuurrrrrp!”

“Braaaaaaaahhhhhhpp!”

“Buuuuuuuuuuuuurrrp!”

“Ugh!” 

Stiles laughed as he walked back into the café to return the pitchers. 

Derek ducked his head again and did his best to ignore the scene happening next to him. 

Stiles reappeared outside moment later. 

“Feel better, guys?” He asked playfully.

Both wolves nodded, letting out smaller and smaller burps. 

“Sorry about this,” Stiles said. 

Derek looked down at his hand, then looked up and found Stiles staring straight at him. 

“Who, me?” He asked, his eyes widening and his eyebrows raising.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled. “All the burping. Sorry about all that. The boys can be a little inconsiderate sometimes.”

Derek shrugged. “It happens….” he mumbled. 

Stiles walked up to him and held out his hand. “I’m Stiles.”

Derek stared at the outstretched hand for a few moments. Stiles’s fingers were thin and spidery…and looking at them made a chill run up Derek’s spine. Finally, after a moment, Derek took the hand in his own and shook it. 

“Derek.” He said.

Stiles’s smile widened. “Nice to meet you, Derek.” 

Derek nodded. 

Stiles withdrew his hand, continuing to smile at Derek. “Well, I better get these guys home. But I’ll see you around?”

Derek nodded again. He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask much from the wolves, but all he could do was hope he could run into them here tomorrow.

Stiles turned and spoke to the bloated werewolves. “Alright, come on, guys. Let’s get home before you start leaking out the other end!”

Scott and Jax(?) both heaved themselves up.

“Gross, Stilinski,” the blond said.

Stiles laughed, shepherding them down the sidewalk. “Hey, it’s not my fault your stomach doesn’t like deviled eggs!”

“You didn’t have to make me eat so many!”

“Make you? ‘I want deviled eggs by the dozen!’ I seem to remember you shouting that at me…”

“I did not!”

Derek stared after them, their swaying bellies and hips somewhat hypnotic. He still had a niggling feeling that there was something he should be paying attention to, but he couldn’t pin it down: in any case, Derek still wasn’t sure what was going on, but he did know what he would be doing the next afternoon.

***

Stiles laughed as Jackson and Scott waddled down the street, each making accusations about how smelly the other could be. 

The black-haired man had been at the café again, and he’d gotten the chance to actually get a name this time. Derek. It totally went with the underwear model brooding façade he had going on. And he hadn’t run when the boys started their little…performance. 

Maybe he really would be amenable to what Stiles had to offer. 

In any case, Stiles had other things to focus on. Like the full-on belly rub he was going to give to Jackson as soon as he got the wolves back home. He was definitely due a prize.


	3. The Journey of a Thousand Miles...

Walking up to the café had become both the best and most nerve-wracking part of Stiles’s day. Would Derek still be there? Would today be the day he decided that Stiles and his fat wolves were too much? Or would he actually be able to become part of their pack? These questions and more swum through Stiles’s head as he strolled down the sidewalk behind his waddling werewolves, his shoulders thrown back in false confidence. 

And every time he saw the brunet sitting there, Stiles couldn’t help but smile, excitement and anticipation making him want to shout and fist-pump. 

(Which of course he didn’t do because as much of a nerd as he was, Stiles had learned how to at least appear suave.)

What he did make a point to do every day was say hello. And Derek always said “hello” back. Stiles didn’t mind the stiffness. Or the fact that that was possibly the most words he might get out of the man for the day. Stiles never had a problem filling the silence. And when he wasn’t teasing his wolves or fetching them water, he made sure to talk to Derek about something. 

Some days, Derek would have a book he was (pretending) to read. Or some days he would have a laptop. Once Stiles even saw him frowning down at a cell phone as if it had personally offended him. (And what were those eyebrows about? The dude looked like he could literally brow-beat someone into submission!)

But Derek never looked offended or bothered by Stiles. He’d even started to give a little, his own stories and anecdotes replacing what had started as grunts and non-verbal hums. Though Derek’s was still much less talkative than Stiles. Then again, most people were less talkative than Stiles. He was used to it. 

What Stiles did learn from Derek was that he was definitely a werewolf (not openly admitted but the clues were all there for someone in the know), he was smart, had a sarcastic wit, and he had a definite sweet tooth. It was rare that Stiles had walked up on Derek that he didn’t have at least one sweet treat in front of him, if not multiple. If Stiles hadn’t known Derek was a werewolf, we would have wondered how the man kept his trim physique. Of course, Stiles also knew a few things about fat and werewolves…just ask Scott and Jackson. And given the chance, Stiles would be happy to help Derek join their ranks.

The thought made Stiles smile as he walked up to the café, Derek sitting at his usual table with a book held in front of him.

Stiles smiled wider as he realized that Derek was reading Harry Potter. Derek was definitely responding to Stiles’s particular charms. If only he were brave enough to take that first step...

***

Derek couldn’t help but feel frustrated at himself. He’d been coming to the café every day for three weeks now and he hadn’t really learned anything more about Stiles and his wolves than their names, and that Stiles liked to talk. A lot. 

Except for a man who seemed to enjoy talking so much, he didn’t really reveal anything about himself. Maybe it was a clever ruse? Talk so much that Derek got bored and left them alone. But Derek wasn’t getting bored. In fact, Derek was even more intrigued. No one should be that excited to talk about the history of circumcision or to debate the merits of Velcro over zippers. (Derek was firmly in the zipper camp. Less noisy and easier to keep clean.) The discussions were almost inane, but Derek found himself excited at the prospect of having them. It had become what got him out of bed in the morning, and even prompted him to do his own research into different subjects. 

Like today, Derek was re-reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban because Stiles had been arguing with him about whether Sirius and Remus were a couple in the past and Derek wanted to see for himself if any of Stiles’s arguments had any merit. (He was beginning to suspect they did.)

Derek was so caught up in the story that he hadn’t even noticed the approach of Stiles and his wolves. Which would explain the jump he did when Scott belched from the bench beside him. 

“Sorry, dude,” Scott said, kneading his belly. Scott and Jackson both had definitely gained weight since Derek had first run into the trio. Scott’s belly was more extended than usual, it’s mass high and tight, obviously stuffed full, and at least a foot of tanned belly was visible under his tee. Jackson looked bloated as well, though not as much as Scott, but two missing buttons on his shirt gave away how much he must have eaten himself. 

“No problem,” Derek replied. 

“Can’t believe you got caught off guard by our fat asses,” Jackson teased. His own hands were pressing gently into his taut belly. “Uuurrrrp! Oooo.”

Derek shook his head at the display. The two wolves had, over the past weeks of quick questions while Stiles was inside, told Derek in no uncertain terms that Stiles was neither forcing nor coercing them to gain weight or be with him. When the subject of how they had managed to become so large, they would both smile and simply say something like, “wolfing down food,” or, “I took down these three little pigs earlier,” or something equally punny and enigmatic. These responses were what irked Derek the most. 

“Big feed?” Derek found himself asking.

“Scotty here finally hit 450, so Stiles took us to this all-you-can-eat steakhouse…and you know us wolves. Can’t resist good meat.” Jackson replied.

450 pounds...God, that was big! Derek looked over at Scott. “Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Scott murmured, barely audible over the gurgling of his gut, before letting out a fart. “Oh shit! Sorry!”

Jackson openly guffawed. “Nice one, McCall!”

Derek couldn’t help but chuckling. “It’s all the protein.”

Stiles came out that moment, carrying two pitchers of soda water. “Here you go boys! Shake things up a little!” 

“You do that and Scott might pop!” Derek said. 

Stiles looked over at Derek, a surprised smile on his face.

Realizing what he’d said, Derek blushed and turned back to his book, cramming what was left of the lemon pound cake from his plate into his mouth. Off to the side he could hear the wolves gulping down the water, before letting out louder and longer burps than before. The door to the café opened and closed again. 

“Dude, ask him out already.”

Derek’s head snapped up to Jackson. “What?”

Jackson snorted. “It’s obvious you like the guy. And it’s frankly kinda sickening watching the two of you dance around each other. Just ask Stilinski out for coffee or drinks…something!”

“I don’t…I’m not…” Derek started to protest.

“Dude!” Scott jumped in, “we can smell it on both of you!”

Derek was speechless for a moment. Did he really give off those types of signals? Did he…have a thing for Stiles?...

…yes.

“But what about you two?” Derek asked.

“Might be kinda awkward if we went on the date with you,” Jackson said.

“But aren’t you all…you know…”

“We’re non-exclusive,” Scott said.

“And it’s really more of a business relationship,” Jackson added.

“What?” Derek was more confused than he had been. Every answer seemed to bring up more questions.

“Dude! Just ask him out! Stiles can explain it better!” Scott insisted. 

“He loves talking. Be warned,” Jackson said.  
Derek sat silently contemplating. A moment later, Stiles came out again. 

“You boys ready?” He asked, then turned to Derek, “I’m sorry about all the burping again.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s a natural thing.”

Stiles smiled at him. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat more today. I really ought to get these boys home before they start leaking out the other end.” He added the last sentence in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Too late!” Scott called out, making Jackson laugh.   
Stiles just rolled his eyes. 

“I understand. Maybe…” Derek paused. Now was his chance. Was he brave enough to take the first step? “…maybe we could talk some more over drinks sometime…if you’re free?”

Stiles looked surprised.

“Or maybe not.” Derek began to backpedal, “it was just an idea…”

“I’d love to!” Stiles interrupted. His face broke out into a smile. 

“Oh. Okay.” Derek was at a bit of a loss. “Um…do you want my number or…”

“Absolutely! Here, text yourself on my phone then we’ll have each other’s numbers!” Stiles handed Derek his cell. 

Derek quickly typed in his own number and sent a quick message of “Stiles’s number” to himself. 

“Awesome dude! I’ll text you when I get home. Cool?” Stiles asked. 

“Sure,” Derek replied, still a little shell shocked. 

“Sweet! Well, then I guess I’ll talk to you later! Boys! C’mon, let’s go!” 

Derek watched as Stiles pulled the two bloated werewolves up off the benches and began herding them down the sidewalk. He waved back when Stiles turned to give him a wink and a wave.

“What have I gotten myself into?” Derek wondered aloud once the group was completely out of earshot. He pulled out his phone, and saved the new number simply as “Stiles”


End file.
